Of what use is the information we gather which must yet remain in secret? In what ways can we love valiantly a man unwilling to yield? Today I found an address and a number that are useless to me though they tell me more of someone I desire with all threads of madness.  I sat and gazed at the screen, wondering how useless these are. Though my heart still burns, but, with time’s rewarding peace, I have learned not to shed tears, my heart absorbing the pain of longing. I have desired this man, 2 years gone by and clocking close to 3 years, and what I have achieved is but a short step, staying on a spot when all I wish is to run to his embrace.  Why is life so terse in the affairs of the heart? 

I could go to him, but only with a cup and the cup cannot hold more than an insignificant portion of the river within my soul. I die and live at the same time. What words can describe the sorrow and the happiness and in what ways could I summarize the largeness that is within me, dwarfed by the reality I cannot remove?

I have sung the man’s names countless times, my voice dulled by repetition. I keep recalling with deep regret on how I opened the floodgates of my heart that washed him away. I know indeed that God gives out of his bounty of riches with love and tenderness.  Yet, like a beggar at the gates of wealth, I cast aside my blessing to ask for his attention, to bid his closeness, to be loved by him.  I devalued myself whilst I raise his nature beyond himself. I have loved a man whose nature tells me about kindliness, but whose position against me appears as a wall of wickedness. Though, I refuse to measure other men by him and would that I should find enough to follow another, I seem rooted on a path that my heart feels will lead to him. I still claim him as my friend, dispassionate, cold; as my love, unrequited, grave. How I dream of him, lowly, alone?

I wish I could command his heart with renditions of love, but I have known better. I have written thousands of words on hundreds of pages, abusing him and praising him. Through the stream of the violent and flowery language, I have loved him unwavering. I have fed my mind with images of him and played his words as if he were talking to me now. He never left me even though to him I was gone. What miracle life wrought to keep us in flow through its gorges and violent fall? Still, I miss him with tenderness and dream of a day we shall unite in time according to God’s blessed will.

It was like a dream, a trance I guess because I was not sleeping. My heart convulsed and my mind screamed out words, plaintive words begging him to take me as his own. I desired to be in such ownership, forgetting that, in his eyes, I was worthless goods - even a rag has more value than me as a human being. The words started flowing just as my eyes started gushing tears and my muscles began to ache from spasms I could not explain other than to admit love sickness. It was a dialogue of sort, monotone, silent, but still a dialogue. It was wicked and unforgiving. I was being informed of his “girlfriend” whom I had wished does not exist, but the dialogue was bitter and exhausting. I wished my mind could be numbed, rendered neuroleptic. It was grave, it was sad, but the words came regardless:

“… I believe you and I pray God bless you in your relationship and in your love. However, it changes not how I feel, unfortunate for me. I could say I wish I hadn’t known you, but of what good is that now? I would only wish you see me purely as someone who loves you, despite your not being able to return such purity of heart.  I am meant to live life alone. I chose it from an early age. Still no one knows providence and we are unable to see beyond the moment. All are screens and smokes. I love you. I always will. Two people may exist divergent in thoughts to each other’s feelings. One wanting the other, the other wanting another but, spirits must run free in hope of unity. No one knows this better than me. The thing is I cannot conceive a relationship when my soul is lost to you. I hope she whom you love loves you with fullness. In my arrogance, I cannot imagine anyone loving you more. Still, I must accept your choice.

Still, why won’t you talk to me freely? I haven’t committed a crime and regardless of what I feel that I say, you can still be you without feeling as if you are giving me false hope. Any hope I may have is my illusion and my pain. Why won’t you make a joke of it, lighten it, make me part of your basic humanity. I suffer a lot of turmoil, not from your firm rejection but from being saddled with such unfriendliness. I know we are not the same and do things differently, but your breath is the same as mine and if your love was to fail, wouldn’t you wish for friendship?

I wanted to see you, to get the chance I have always sought to close things. Yet, you denied that chance again, claiming the pressure of work. I understand the pressure. How strange time is, how queer we are. Yet, generosity is not in giving that which I need more than you do, it is in giving me that which you need more than I do. Still, how can you be generous to someone you consider unworthy of your affection? The thing is, I am a pauper and you are a prince and it is only when movement slows that I come into consideration as a reminder of your basic humanity. I pray that time will be our friend because I honestly need us to sit face to face to understand some things so that cowardice may not triumph and ghosts may be exorcised. What when you return, will you fit me in somehow? Please promise me. I know I am poor and without pedigree, but I stand wet and tattered at your palace gate, knocking … please let me in for a little while. I was once rich too, but love made me poor and what was once a beautiful robe has turned into an ugly covering turned by the elements of indifference and neglect. I myself was a princess of a royal house, but love made me a vagrant and a fool.

You say I want something that does not exist. How so? I might as well not exist, for denying the existence of what flows within me is like denying life itself.  It is like an atheist denying the existence of God, who cannot even explain his own breath. It used to be said that time was just chance, until those whose minds were open to wisdom discovered a knowledge of something that points to the existence of time.  You are not an atheist and I know you know that the fact that something is hidden from the naked eyes does not prove its non-existence. You do not love me. Yes.  But, please, do not belittle my feelings by writing it off into nothingness. What I ask is your time, your generosity and that you can give, if you choose. If, however, you say love does not exist, then, I am sad, for why then are you Christian? Why then are you bound to your job, choosing poverty when you could have riches? Why are you concerned for people (excepting me) when you could have thoughts only for yourself? Love exists. My feelings for you exist. It lives strongly in my mind, yet you choose to deny the very thing you represent. Interestingly for Easter, you choose to deny your essence. What I love in you is your love and your compassion, your genuineness and though you deny me, I still love you because all I love in you lives! We both know feelings cannot be forced and we both know that genuine love survives adversity and exhausts time’s limit. Just spare me sometime when you return and save me from these epistles you make me write. I won’t rape you just in case you are afraid.

Your love for me does not exist. I believe you. However, time exists and I ask that you give me part of yours. The only fear is finding in existence that “something” which does not exist. Existence itself is a temporal thing, subject to chance and only God knows when it happens to us. Impossible become possible. One given for dead wakes, moment devolves into moments and only God knows them all. However, do not fear because God will not give you that something which is not yours already, whether by way of experience or permanence. I seek you at my soul’s quest. It is ordained.

You might ask: why do I seek you when you do not love me? Some answers I can give, others are hived up in my chest … wordless. With the frenzy with which I have followed you, there must be a thing I cannot begin to comprehend with ordinary intellect. Science says I must have “smelled” my complementary mate in you, but what do I know? I merely had to listen to you and I got rapt. The song I will continue to sing though is that you need not worry too much about my illusions and my pain. I continue to dwell in them of my own free will. I am solely responsible for whatever happens and cannot and will not blame you. We both made our choices. I love you, you love another. It is good to love, better still to love and be loved in return. I am not doing badly by having the capacity to love deeply, with fullness. I am half way there.

You say I am selfish because I request and beg to see you. You judge me so unkindly. How? Why? It is as if you are angry with me. Why? What is it? I do not show up at your work or home disturbing you or insisting I must see you. I use words to entreat you and you consider me selfish. Aren’t you being too harsh, too dramatic? You have the bread and, accepting that you cannot share it with me, I ask for your crumbs to appreciate why I cannot have bread and you judge me selfish. I need to understand. It takes two you say. Fine, you have your two, you and your girlfriend. I am only one, just me on the fringe and there is no two, no other. Can you not see? I also can think you selfish because you seem to give nothing except that which can be subsumed in your world, but I cannot begrudge you for that. You know what you want. However, selfishness is a trait I run from and strive against. My whole life is an opposite story of what you accuse me of. So, please do not accuse me of selfishness so lightly. Explain why. It is also one of the reasons why we need to talk. You say you disagree, but why? What do you disagree on? It if it is on our need to talk, then fine, you are not ready, but please, this Easter, let’s ask for blessings that will enable us truly see each other without the contest of You and I, two foolish egos that we are. Enjoy your Easter Sunday and God bless us with His love.

You say it is commanded that you love your neighbour as yourself, not more than yourself. True. Still yet, isn’t the question that “love” and not the pharisaic cliché? Can we love in words only? Can we love except we understand each other’s pain? Can we love without patience, without compassion, without charity? Can we love when one of us is torn to shreds, bleeding and we pass on bye as if there is nothing we can do, pity? What I feel most is your anger which you refuse to explain. I ask if you were to lose your love, what would you wish for and how would you like her to respond to you? If you can be honest in your answer, then you would have loved me as yourself not by quoting me pharisaic statement, but by pure empathy, not pity. For it is what we wish done to us, given similar situation, which will determine our neighbourliness? If the situation was reversed, I would treat you with tenderness, with the love of God that is in all of us, and by yourself, you will agree I can do no more. I will bear responsibility for you, be your true friend and treat you with respect and decency. I will not make you feel that you need to crawl just because you loved me. And, if you crawl, I will bend with you, stretch my hand to you and hold you up with me, listen to your heart’s convulsions and help you realise the value of such beauty well directed. I will allow you to say goodbye, should you wish, for love, which I am unable to return has made you weak for me and it is not your fault, so I will not take advantage of you.  I will love you as I would have me loved if I was in that situation. We are neighbours when we are merciful, not when we are conceited. Christianity is not about the easy road of familiar love, it is about true love, looking into the eyes of another human being and seeing you there.

Life’s representation is about lines, shadows and light. One cannot properly represent things without understanding its nature and its form. Please, let’s meet when you return and come to a mutual understanding that will benefit us. It is really not about positions, yours or mine, but about clarity, free from the lumber of precepts. Please. If we only see positions, how do we advance? By understanding each other, all will be well. That which God said to the rose and caused it to laugh in full blown beauty, He will say to our hearts and make these a hundred times more beautiful. Please, just a chance to talk face to face at a later date, to come to better understanding which written words or voice blurted down a line cannot convey. Please, we cannot understand each other if all we see are selfishness and wall. I love you. I know how futile you hold it to be, but I also know how present and real it is. It is beyond what you imagine. Us not coming to an understanding scares me, to hear your voice and not be able to read from your eyes, and have you drop the phone on me when you consider my words disagreeable scares me. All I hear is your accusation. Although I do understand why, it grieves me to make you angry. I’d rather make you laugh. Yet, I stand plaintive, praying for a chance at better understanding, crumbs of it, bones of it, old clothes for my nakedness, but you remain angry still. Can’t you see? What you see as selfishness is my weakness for you. I am trying hard to reach out to you but I cannot break the wall without you.

I keep reading your responses trying to glean something deeper. It is futile. One day, shadows will give way to substance through the light of God. No matter what, it is never my intention to harm you or cause you any discomfort. Believe me. Everything just keeps blowing up in an attempt to make things better. I hate offending you, but I also do not want to hide from you, so I offend you, anyway. Who else can we disagree with without fear except our true friend? Who else can we quarrel with without hate except whom we love? The situation is just so awkward. Why can’t we see through each other? What is it we need to do to salvage things? The fact that we don’t want each other in particular ways should not diminish the opportunity of a great friendship. Please let’s look beyond appearances and see the hearts. You are much stronger than I am … why do you refuse to see this? You are more controlled, less emotional. We cannot both be the same beyond our tenacity. I am weak for you. You are far much stronger and far more reasonable. I cannot compete with your hardness of heart. Can’t we find a better way to fight fair?

You know if I could treat “love” the way I treat money, things would never get out of hand. I will value it for what it can achieve while I have it, and when it goes or becomes reduced, I will not miss it for I would have gained from the extravagance it had afforded me. If whatever money I have is forcefully taken away from me, I will not miss its loss beyond a moment doubt on the nature of human beings, knowing that money is not worth the blood of friends, nor my own blood. I would remain poor in cash but rich in my heart. I will lack for nothing because I will know that the price of everything is not necessarily its value and neither foe nor loving friend will affect my balance. 

It you want me to say I am selfish, I will. I don’t know what it is I do that ticks you off. Why do I offend you so much? You do not wish that I love you, but can’t you see? I just do. I did not ask myself to love you; there were no terms and conditions under which I signed. I was never given a contract to read. It just came and we are both feeling its rudeness. Tell me what I need to know, not by accusing me, but by leading me, because I am not a seer. This is why I wanted us to talk face to face. Meeting doesn’t mean an embarrassing moment of me crying or begging you, it is a chance to learn by understanding all the wrongs and how to avoid the pitfalls so that we may both be better at dealing with each other. I love you, and it is truly beyond what you imagine.  What do you say? Understanding starts from learning from each other. 

I decided to go sermonize out of a plea, to bargain for a chance to talk things through. I get afraid of phone calls knowing you will drop on me if I say something out of line and I always could feel your coldness. I only wish to correct things for good. Yet, I feel guilty. I do not know why. I ask how you are doing, but I get silence, then when I gist about me, it turns bad because I never cease making lettered passes at you … then it get replied to too seriously because I misconstrue the chance as an opportunity for dialogue and when it gets too much, you switch off without warning … I get sad and depressed. It’s a vicious cycle and I am sorry. I guess most of the time, I never see beyond my feelings for you and any “no” gets taken too personally because I love you too much and only wish for a little bit of that feeling back instead of bitter coldness. It takes me a while but I guess you have a point. I am “selfish”, but you do not encourage a chance for me to be any other way with you, no matter how hard I try. The problem is I don’t understand why you treat me with such meanness, so mercilessly. Still, my heart is right with you and I love you. Believe this. At this moment in time, nothing will fill me with greater happiness than to reconcile with you. Fill you with happiness and be a source of joy for one another.

I spent my weekend intuiting. I hardly left my room. I am sad and depressed, not for lack of anything, just wondering why we always end up in a “fight”. We’ve not seen each other in three years, so, how twisted can anyone get? I get really sad and angry, I become incapacitated. My work suffers, I lose interest in everything. I heap guilt on myself, some true, some exaggerated, but, in all, I just feel I cannot make it unless I am manipulative and conniving, which requires a mind, disciplined in a different way. I feel I must be a liar and a cheat. I am too unruly, too rude, too emotional, tactless and ultimately stupid! All I feel is too visible, too naked, too unpolished, too undesirable, too wild, too mad, too in-your-face. I become ill with fever, my muscles ache from not getting out of bed, my eyes hurt from too much tears. I feel guilty, I feel sorry, I feel lost, I feel abandoned, I feel condemned to wander alone … I feel “hated” and I am unable to deal with it. Sometimes, the voice just keeps accusing me, saying: why can’t you lie? Don’t you know how to hide, protect yourself? No one wants the truth naked. No one likes the truth. It is too stark, it is not glamorous. Why do you admit your weakness? No one wants a weak person, weakness is unattractive. Why do you beg when you can win by lying and cheating? It’s all a game. These things are permitted. You put the man where he thinks he has put himself and he will beg for you. Men love to hunt. Why bring the meat home? It’s too easy. The voice kills me, torments me and I am ill. I am tired. I want to sleep but my thoughts keep me awake. Sometimes I wonder about this life. I do not belong here, not really and love is my torment, a way of showing me I am obsolete. I feel a divine joke is on me, but I am not finding it funny. God must be laughing at me. I am in love with a Deaconess son and I am passing through hell. It is a joke! Everything gets too hard and only a fool is plain to see. My head aches. All I say is in vain. There is no redeeming quality in me, everything is disgusting. I am not of the right pedigree, not even as a friend. I am lame and unpolished and even your crumbs are just too good for me … better for a dog than me. You wish me no good and my ways you despise. My character offends you and my person you deny. Within your vain calculation, I am worth less than a speck of dust. In the splendour of your life, I am but a rag to step on. Days gone by, I slave to overcome your contempt, to release myself from your derision. I strive not to trade on your hate but to see you more like the harsh teacher of life … what life we live … all is in vain, God only knows, God only cares. Meanwhile, I lay dying …”

The words continued, no longer making sense, just mumbles, like a thousand persons were engaged in conversation in my mind.  I hugged myself, buried in the secrets of my heart, buried in an awakening that will not live.

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